


of under me you so quite new

by PearlsValeMel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Sweet/Hot, Wedding Night, basically it's porn with a barely-there plot, but prince Ben is a gentlemen, former enemies to married, rey is scared, sith princess rey, sweet smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22712173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearlsValeMel/pseuds/PearlsValeMel
Summary: In less than a minute the man she once bested in combat, the one who has been an enemy until their arranged marriage brought peace between the Empire and the Alderaan kingdom, would enter the room as her husband, claiming her body and destiny. Owning her through and throughout.She doesn't even know his language, the interpreter having left after the oaths were translated and exchanged between them.So Rey waits, fear churning and twisting her gut, trying to calm her breathing and not to show how the waiting is breaking her, bit by bit.When the door creaks open, her heart abruptly stops.Or: the first wedding night of Sith princess Reyna Palpatine and her consort, prince Ben Organa Solo, a Medieval AU
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 33
Kudos: 397
Collections: Reylo - AU's (Star Wars)





	of under me you so quite new

_I like my body when it is with your_

_body. It is so quite new a thing._

_Muscles better and nerves more._

_i like your body. i like what it does,_

_i like its hows. i like to feel the spine_

_of your body and its bones, and the trembling_

_-firm-smooth ness and which i will_

_again and again and again_

_kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,_

_i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz_

_of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes_

_over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,_

_and possibly i like the thrill_

_of under me you so quite new_

_e. e. Cummings_

Princess Reyna Palpatine, niece of Emperor Sidious, pupil of Lord Snoke and only heir of the Sith Empire, is terrified. 

Sitting on a big, foreign bed in the flimsiest nightgown she's ever seen, she swallows, watching the still closed door in front of her. The pearls that adorned her hair have already been discarded, as well as the heavy emerald wedding gown, tucked away into a chest by her maiden, after the ceremony.

The color has been her first and last act of defiance. Virginal white simply isn’t for her, as well as the dark combination of black and red her grandfather seems to love so much. 

So, green. She's always loved green. She wonders what her husband's favorite color is.

Her _husband_.

Rey embraces her knees more tightly, waiting and bracing herself against the foreign word. She has seen the cruelty of war, felt the bloody stench of Death beside her, but nothing compares to the gut wrenching tension that currently clutches her insides.

In less than a minute the man she once bested in combat, the one who has been an enemy until their arranged marriage brought peace between the Empire and the Alderaan kingdom, would enter the room as her husband, claiming her body and destiny. _Owning_ her through and throughout. 

The thought makes her shudder with repulsion and fear. First the slave trader she had been sold to by her parents, then Emperor Palpatine, and his advisor Snoke, both eager to have another puppet to control, train and sell to marriage at the first convenience. 

Since her grandfather had tracked her down, orphaned and lost in the sands of Jakku, Rey has never been master of herself.

And now she is once again a property to be used, only by a different man. 

Her husband, Kylo Ren. A warrior she has met more than once on the battlefield, with whom she crossed blades, often spilling both hers and his blood. Intense, ruthless, a worthy opponent.

But Rey knows there are no swords in this room, no shields nor armors to protect her from her feminine destiny and duty, and she feels defenseless for the first time in her life. At the mercy of her former enemy who will take her and hurt her and probably discard her as soon as he takes his pleasure and at least one heir from her.

She doesn't even know his language, the interpreter having left after the oaths were translated and exchanged between them.

So Rey waits, fear churning and twisting her gut, trying to calm her breathing and not to show how the waiting is breaking her, bit by bit.

When the door creaks open, her heart abruptly stops.

***

Kylo Ren, prince of Alderaan and Naboo, last of the Skywalker dynasty and the Naberrie House, master of the Knights of Ren, has led his army to victory more than once, besting any adversity on his path with ruthless determination and power. 

But tonight gone is Kylo Ren’s armor and helmet, gone are his legacy sword and steed; gone are the sounds of war and the sharp clash of weapons. 

Tonight, shredding the clothes of his warfare alias, Benjamin Organa Solo stands in front of a closed door trying to find the courage to open it. 

On the other side lies his _wife_.

The word still tastes foreign on his tongue.

Marriage wasn't in his future, or maybe he hasn't given the concept any thought. So it came as a surprise when his mother announced the truce with the Empire, sealed by the union of the two heirs. 

No, Ben Organa Solo hasn't anticipated getting married before the end of the year, and especially not to _her_.

The only warrior that managed to hurt him, to mark him. A _woman_. And a beautiful one, indeed.

Waiting for him in his own chambers to consummate their acclaimed marriage, the formal ending of a grudge that lasted for more than two generations.

Never a coward, Ben takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

His mother warned him, after the ceremony. "Don't be deceived by the circumstances,” she whispered to him. “She might be a strong warrior, the same one that gave you that scar. But she's also a woman on her wedding night, vulnerable and scared, especially now that she's been given to you like nothing more than a token by her own people. Treat her well, my son."

But his mother was wrong. 

Princess Reyna Palpatine doesn’t appear scared. She's _terrified_. 

She's doing her best to hide it, he can tell. But Ben sees her spine going rigid as the door closes behind him, and her fingers clench compulsively on the transparent fabric of her nightgown with every step he takes towards the bed. When he stops in front of her, her knuckles are rigid and bone-white.

Her eyes never leave him, wary and wide open. She's like a deer trapped by a wolf, waiting for him to strike and sink his teeth into her neck.

Ben has seen her covered in armor, roaring guttural cries of both victory and frustration, swishing her sword with precision and a bit of cockiness. He has seen her wild and terrifying like the Goddess of war, dirty and covered in blood, snarling and defying his every expectation.

But to see her now, so small and tense, curled into a ball on his bed, breaks his heart and crushes his soul in a new and painful way.

"Don't be afraid," he whispers, forgetting for a moment that she can't understand a word of his idiom. “I feel it too.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, he sits on the bed, watching her nostrils flare and her body go rigid once again like an untamed stallion.

But Ben doesn't want to tame her, his beautiful and fierce wife. He just wants to see her smile, wants to know if she has dimples too, if her cheeks will flush and redden under his hands and if the freckles scattered on her nose and collarbone continue even lower. 

Despite their rocky past, Ben wants to _know_ her. 

So he offers her his hand and waits.

***

Her first reaction to the hand that reaches towards her is to strike and run. Rey barely manages to control it as Kylo Ren — her _husband_ — presents his open palm to her and stops moving altogether. 

Her eyes dart from his outstretched hand to his eyes, trying to anticipate his intentions with no success. He’s still as a stone, and only his shining eyes and the way he’s biting the inside of his lips betray an uncharacteristic amount of anticipation and nerves.

After a while, the prince whispers something in his language that sounds dangerously close to a plea. His fingers tremble and for a fleeting moment Rey lets herself believe he will not hurt her.

With a deep breath she takes his hand, bracing herself in case he decides to twist her arm or crush her. Instead, Ben's lips curve in a quiet smile as he exhales in relief. 

Slowly, as if she was a frightened bird ready to fly away at the first sharp move, his warm palm engulfs her own, bringing their joined hands to his chest. 

"Ben," he murmurs, squeezing her fingers and pressing them above his heart as to better emphasize the concept.

Rey gapes at him, trying to discern the meaning of that word. 

After a while it occurs to her; she’s heard it before. Earlier, during the wedding ceremony, she’s heard Queen Leia, his mother, whispering it fondly as she straightened his collar one last time before the oath. It was a name. _His_ name.

"Ben," she repeats in a whisper, trying his real name on her tongue, the taste of it, so different from his other alias. 

Kylo Ren inspired fear and intimidation; a name for war, blood and aggression. 

_Ben_ , is almost a caress, a name made for gentle and tentative gestures in the intimacy of the bedroom. 

Rey suddenly wonders which man is the one in front of her.

Her husband smiles, bringing her hand to his mouth, and his trembling exhale bounces on her skin as he kisses it. His full lips graze her knuckles, one by one, his eyes never leaving hers until he turns her hand. 

His eyelids flutter close as he kisses her sweaty palm once, twice, a path of scorching kisses that ends on the inside of her wrist, where she can feel the wet swipe of his tongue.

The shiver that shakes her whole body is met by his soft gasp as her hand finds his cheek, and everything stills.

Emboldened by his reaction at her small gesture, Rey dares to lift her other hand, slowly cupping his face. Ben doesn’t move as her fingers wander on his features, letting her explore him without interruption.

She traces the profile of his big nose, the tickling edge of his mustaches and beard; she follows the angular shape of his long face, the little braids intertwined in his raven hair and the wide ears peeking from his locks. 

Even when they were enemies, Rey couldn't deny the mighty Kylo Ren was a sight to behold. And now she can _touch_ him, with her bare hands instead of the sharp blade of her sword; she can let her thumb press down and test the softness of his mouth, too full and red to belong to the face of a rude warrior. 

His lips open, pliant under her digit, and Rey can't help but gasp as Ben's tongue darts out to graze the pad of her finger.

His eyes are focused on her, warm and dark like the strong liquor her grandfather used to sip after his evening council sessions. Under their scrutiny Rey feels raw, utterly exposed, vulnerable and little, even as her fingers hover on the ragged scar that crossed his right cheek. The scar she gave him, so long ago.

Tears swell in her eyes, at the thought of being the cause of that permanent reminder on his beautiful face. If he wanted to enact his revenge on her he could, so easily now that she is legally his to take and do whatever he wants.

Guilt and fear knot her insides, and she retrieves her hands as if burned, but Ben is faster and clutches them under his own.

A sob escapes the prison of her gritted teeth before she can even think of blocking it.

"Ben..."

***

Hearing his true name uttered by her quiet voice is like a balm for his senses. But the tone, the terror that seeps through the syllables and the tears threatening to fall from her eyes make blood freeze in his veins. 

The scar she gave him burns on his skin. A scar that has been a testament of his shame for so long; bested by a woman on the battlefield. 

Is she remembering that fateful day?

Ben does, but it's not the pain and shame of defeat that surface to his mind every time he has a glimpse of his reflection and the ragged line on his face.

He sees her, beautiful and fierce as she appeared before his eyes that day, stronger than she knows and striking him down with everything she had.

He feels his blood sing, as it did when she tore away her helmet, to fix her hazel eyes on his bloody face while he laid sprawled and defeated in the dirt, as if she couldn't believe she had actually landed a strike on him.

Ben remembers how easily she could have killed him, sometimes he can still feel the air shifting around him as she tilted her sword and prepared for the decisive blow. 

But he also remembers her mercy, her inability to kill him. How she ran away, leaving her dented helmet and a baffled prince behind.

Ben remembers that day not for the scar on his face, but for the missing piece of his heart that she cut away and kept for herself. 

Since that day he has imagined so many times what it would be like to meet her under different circumstances. Not on a battlefield, but at a ball, a diplomatic assembly, a spring festival. To see her in a dress, just to be striked down not by her sword, but her overwhelming beauty. 

He has never dared to hope, to dream of her like this, alone in his chambers and dressed only in a flimsy nightgown, hanging precariously by her slender shoulders. Trembling and waiting. 

Ben doesn’t know how to ease her sudden dread and guilt, doesn’t know how to tell her that everything is alright, that he means her no harm and wouldn’t even dream of touching her if it wasn’t for this strange marriage, thrown upon them like an unwanted bond that ties their destinies together. 

Even if he hopes they could learn to know, maybe even love each other, in this tangled mess. 

Ben doesn’t know how to say any of that, and she would not understand him anyway, so he does the first thing that pops up in his mind. He cradles her face in his big hands, sinking his fingers in the hair still braided at her nape. Trying to ignore how her body tenses and her eyes widens, he starts to loosen her updo, plucking ribbons and pins from her tresses as gently as he can. 

The more her hair comes undone and coils around his wrists, the more she relaxes under his touch, and something in his heart sings.

She can’t possibly know the deeper meaning of this gesture, how intimate and almost obscene is of her to let someone like him - _her husband_ , he’s her husband now - run his fingers through her locks; to let him see her like that, with her hair down and curling lovely around her shoulders.

Rey’s still watching him carefully, but she doesn’t recoil from him, as he finishes his task and reverently tucks a stray lock behind her ear. The gesture brings him closer to her, their chests almost touching, and Ben can't help but smile when he sees her eyes drop to his mouth. Her cheeks flush a second after, when she realizes her slip didn’t go unnoticed.

Something squeezes his heart to the verge of pain at the sight. She’s so lovely and precious to him, and she doesn’t even know it. 

Overwhelmed by this strange emotion, Ben lets his thumb swipe over her lips, his fingers curling around her nape in pleasure as her eyes flutter close at the touch. 

With one last deep breath and praying every deity he knows that she wouldn't strike him, he closes the distance and let his mouth take the place of his digit. 

It’s a chaste kiss at first, a tentative press of closed lips and fumbling noses. Then she tilts her head and her soft mouth slides over his own, eliciting a shiver through his whole body.

The silence is thick like honey, the sound of their breaths magnified by the stillness of it. 

They kiss, unpracticed and a little wild, for what seems like hours, neither of them caring if Ben’s nose digs into her soft cheek or if Rey’s fingers, clenching around the collar of his tunic, threatens to rip the seams. 

Ben eagerly swallows every little sound that she makes, every sigh and muffled moan, until Rey gasps at the first tentative swipe of his tongue on her lower lip. He deepens the kiss, coaxing her mouth open to finally taste her. 

Her whole body trembles and sags, and finally she opens like a flower, melting on his tongue and making him dizzy, like the finest liquor. 

It’s raw, and new, this instant connection between them, utterly terrifying. 

But Ben already knows that just one taste will never be enough.

***

Rey has never been kissed before. Even gentle touches are somehow foreign to her, both her grandfather and Sith Master being somewhat repulsed by affection. 

Or maybe it’s her that isn't worthy of such tender and delicate gestures. 

Maybe affection is like another foreign language that she will never be able to understand. But it occurs to her the Skywalkers seem to speak so fluently the language of love. 

It’s in the heartbreaking care with which Queen Leia cradled his son’s face between her palms, standing on her tiptoes to land a tender kiss on his forehead, after the wedding. Or the fondness in his father’s eyes, as he caressed briefly the prince’s cheek. 

Rey could only watch from afar those seemingly innocuous gestures, enduring the sharp pang of envy. Wondering if Kylo Ren — _Ben_ — would be so inclined towards her as well.

But she was wrong. Her husband doesn’t kiss her like _that_.

Her husband kisses her like she’s something fragile and precious, barely holding back an undercurrent of intensity and hunger that makes her shiver in anticipation. He kisses her like he’s lost and her mouth is the only spring of fresh water in the desert, the only light in the darkness

The languid swipe of his tongue in her mouth makes something ignite in her veins, warmth creeping on her skin like a fever, until Rey's burning from the inside. A sweet tension rises and simmers between them, getting harder to control with every consuming kiss, until they lose count and can’t tell them apart.

Rey feels his hand slide along her nape, clenching and unclenching in her hair, while his thumb traces relentlessly the vein on her neck.

He can probably feel her rabbiting pulse, the spark that singes her nerves when his teeth nips gently at her bottom lips.

They kiss and kiss and kiss until Rey feels drunk and dizzy, so much that she falls backwards among the pillows, reluctantly breaking the frenzied spell they cast upon themselves.

When her eyelids flutters open, Ben is watching her with hooded eyes, his breath as ragged as hers and bouncing hotly on her bee stung lips.

The truce is brief, anyway, and soon he follows her down, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and throat, making her fingers twitch and claw at his already ruined shirt.

The contrast between the roughness of his stubble and his soft lips it's a new kind of torture. A sweet and merciless torture of the senses. 

He's nibbling at her collarbone when Rey feels his fingers hook at the deep neckline of her nightgown, precariously hanging at the edge of her shoulders. 

Ben senses her sudden tension because in no time he stills and his eyes are on her, reading every twitch and reaction, waiting for her decision. 

It’s there, in the sincerity of his transparent gaze and in the way his body thrums but keeps still, that Rey realizes it.

It's like an epiphany, but she is suddenly certain that he would immediately stop, should she ask so.

But she doesn't want to stop. She's always been braver than most. Or maybe just stubborn. 

So it's hers the hand that reaches for the neckline of her nightgown and tugs, letting the fabric slide down her shoulders, until gauze and silk pool on her lap and her chest is bared to him.

Rey closes her eyes, swallowing. She is far from the voluptuous ideal of beauty of the many courtesans that crowded the Sith court. Her lithe body lacks curves and softness, her breasts are small and pert, barely sufficient to create the shadow of a cleavage with the right corset. Training and fighting her whole life has made her arms corded with tendons and muscles, and her hips don't swell and flare like they should.

She's fighting the urge to cover herself when Ben finally speaks.

" _Cyar’ika_ …" 

She doesn't know what the word means but the reverence infused in it is unmistakable. His voice is so hoarse and unlike him that Rey finally opens her eyes and is met by her husband's dark gaze.

Rey knows deep down that she should be scared, petrified by the raw hunger in his eyes. Bottomless, insatiable. 

But she's not afraid — far from it. Her heart thrums with the familiar excitement of the moment before battle, the thrill of the unknown, the heady surge of her own power when she overcomes her limits and conquers another victory. It's an addicting sensation.

Because there, in the depth of his eyes, she can see Ben's admiration and awe for her, larger than life and filling her heart with warmth.

She can see herself through his gaze, her image solid and so real. Beautiful, powerful, an equal beside him.

Has anybody ever watched her like this, with rapt attention and admiration?

His gaze caresses her skin, Rey can feel it, setting every nerve on fire in its wake. When he touches her, it's like a lightning storm.

Ben traces the swell of her left breast with a trembling knuckle, before turning his hand and engulfing the soft mound with his big and warm palm. 

His long fingers almost cover her whole rib cage and Rey bites back a moan when he dares to flick a nipple with his thumb, watching it as it puckers before his eyes like a miracle of the Gods. 

The traitorous sound that escapes her lips is enough for him because before Rey could even think about stopping him, his mouth is on her, hot and wet and sinful, making her tremble and keen.

He's like a man possessed, yearning to devour her as he licks, nibbles and sucks on her breasts with a barely contained ferocity that makes something in her belly melt and tickle down towards her center.

Her fingers tangle in his hair by their own volition, pulling slightly when he uses his teeth to graze her oversensitive nipple. A guttural groan leaves his lips, muffled by her skin but Rey can feel it in her toes, vibrating through her whole body.

She never knew she could feel this way. That he, Kylo Ren — no, _Ben_ — could create such havoc in her senses and body.

His lips continue their journey lower, hovering on her ribs, his tongue dipping in her belly button and making her giggle despite herself. He answers with a grin of his own, toothy and dimpled and Rey's heart nearly skips a beat at the sight. 

Her breath catches as his mouth gets closer and closer to her sex, while his fingers crumples the fabric of her night gown and push it down her body, to reveal her bare skin to him.

Self-consciousness clamps once again the pit of her stomach, while the prince slides the fabric over and past her legs and throws it unceremoniously behind his back. 

Then he stops, as if struck by a lightening in a very compromising position — with his face at mere inches from her sex. 

Rey swallows and tries not to squirm so much under his intent stare.

What exactly is he doing? Is this something people do? Does she smell bad there? 

She's seconds away from kicking him off of her when the warm contact of his palm on her inner thigh makes her jump out of her skin.

Ben is all hushed sound and soothing coos, his fingers kneading absentmindedly her leg and his eyes unmoving. He appears almost mesmerized by the view before him, as he slowly opens her legs further, his warm palm sliding to the inside of her knee to push it back and outward.

Rey feels the crisp air of the evening on her core, followed by the scorching heat of Ben's breath, bouncing on her already quivering flesh. 

Then, a movement, a flicker of his dark hair in her peripheral, and suddenly there are no words in the Sith language or his own, to explain the sizzling sensation that explodes into her very core as Ben dips down and kisses her. Right. There.

His mouth is hot and still swollen by their kisses, as her husband uses it to suckle and lick her folds in a perfectly filthy way that makes her toes curl. 

The act should feel disgusting, but Rey doesn’t find in herself the will to make him stop.

Instead, her hand — the one not currently clawing at the sheets — finds its way towards Ben’s head, entangling in his hair to keep him there, almost begging him to never stop.

He has no intention to, if the deep rumble of his groans, reverberating and tingling through her whole pelvis, are of any indication. Ben buries his face between her thighs as if he's starving, and she’s the only meal that will satisfy his hunger. 

There's a tension building and building inside her, rising like a tide, unstoppable.

Rey feels like she’s going mad, like she’s running towards a precipice, torn between the fear of the height and the utter _need_ to jump right in, even if there’s no way to know if she’ll survive the fall. But the edge is nearer by the minute, as one thick finger prods her entrance, slowly breaching her wet and fluttering core. 

There are flames in her insides, stoked by every swirl of his tongue, every pull of his lips at the apex of her sex, every wet kiss. 

The silence is filled with foreign sounds, whimpers and moans, but it can’t be her, can it? She isn’t this wanton creature, writhing and dripping all over the bed, rendered speechless by a man’s mouth and fingers — but he’s not any other man, he’s her husband, her Ben, feasting on her like he can’t get enough, exploring every crevice and plane of her like he wants to crawl under her skin and carve a space for himself inside her.

The problem is, Rey thinks, she would let him. Keeping him close, until there’s no space, not even a sliver of air between them. Until he can’t leave her, like everyone has.

It takes just another pull of his lips on the sensitive nub at the apex of her sex, a second finger stretching her open and making her dance on the edge of bliss and pain, and suddenly _yes, that’s it_. 

Soaring like the sun breaking through the thickest clouds, pleasure explodes inside her, blinding and overflowing. It’s like her tiny body can’t contain all of it, turning liquid, then solid again under her taut confines of her flushing skin.

When it’s over — a second or maybe an eternity later — Rey feels like she’s floating, boneless and content. At peace, for what seems like the first time of her life. 

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until Ben’s fingers swipe wet trails away from her cheeks.

When Rey opens her eyes, he’s above her, his awed face just inches from hers, looking disheveled and a little delirious. Perhaps it has something to do with the hardness digging insistently into her hip, despite the clothes he’s still wearing. 

His lips are wet with her fluids, and something quivers in her chest at the sinful thought of tasting herself on them. 

Anticipation and shame mingle in her brain until there’s nothing left but _want_. And Rey’s tired of not getting what she wants. 

So she grabs the collar of his tunic and pulls him towards her, until they crash and tumble and devour each other. 

***

Ben can’t get her taste off his head and tongue. She is sweet and tart, like all things wild, better than any delicacy he has ever tasted. And the feel of her, tight and warm and wet, fluttering around his fingers as she toppled over in pleasure… Ben is not sure he will survive this night, let alone their marriage. 

Is it possible to die of too much pleasure? He’s about to discover it.

But now, ignoring his painful erection and trying not to grind it too much on the inviting softness of her thigh, he’s just satisfied with watching his wife as she slowly recovers from her orgasm.

Rey’s so beautiful like this, sprawled before him in abandon, all flushed skin and heaving breasts, warm and sated like a lazy lioness with her belly full. 

He wants to keep her like that forever, content and needing for nothing beside his adoration. 

A glimpse of her feral self shows as soon as Rey grabs him by the collar, smashing their faces together with no preamble. She claws at his tunic, almost ripping the laces of his collar in her impatience to get rid of it, and Ben is eager to help her with her newfound mission. 

Her tiny hands flutter on his bare chest like frightened birds, kneading and caressing and discovering. She traces every scar and mole, blushing as she briefly thumbs his nipple and basks in the shuddering exhale he isn’t able to hide. 

When the shirt is gone, Rey attacks his slacks, with such a determined look on her face Ben stifles a sudden chuckle, that turns into a moan when her hand accidentally slides over his still covered erection.

Something flickers in Rey’s eyes and her lips curls in a wicked way that contrasts so lovely with the flush spreading from her cheeks to her neck and collarbone. 

But Ben can’t dwell much on the strange occurrence, because suddenly his pants are shoved down his legs, and Rey’s tiny hand is wrapped around his cock, making him almost choke on his own tongue.

She’s openly curious and somehow innocent in her exploration of him, and Ben almost loses it too soon at the sight of her sweet concentration. 

Her hand is a bit rough from training with her sword, unpracticed and dry, but the way she bites the inside of her lip as she adjusts her grip on him and the sight of her big eyes darting from his cock to his face, absorbing his every little twitch and reaction, brings him right at the edge of madness.

Ben’s arms tremble so much they give out, and he falls on his forearm, almost crushing her, when her thumb swipes around and over the smooth head, spreading the wetness there. He moans, long and hoarse, into her hair, in the crook of her neck where the smell of her is stronger and heady, panting in her ear and rutting into her fist like a wanton animal.

When it feels like he’s just one torturous caress away from spilling himself on her belly, Ben gathers all his strength and reaches between their body, to grasp and still her wrist.

At her clumsy attempts to break free he answers with a pathetic groan, pleading for mercy.

“Please, just— Don’t move. I-I need to—”

He should have known Rey is all but merciful, as she wriggles underneath him like a dancing tongue of flame, the friction of their skin unbearably good.

Ben pulls away, just enough to clear his head and calm his racing heart, as he stills her with a gentle but firm hand on her sternum. He takes the opportunity to take her in; she’s panting too, and the fear in her eyes has been replaced by a quiet kind of hunger that matches his own. 

Ben drags his hand down, from her chest to her taut belly, feeling her shiver under his palm, until his fingers graze her sex, where she’s still wet and ready for him.

Swallowing a whimper, he grips his cock, sliding it briefly between her drenched core, before lining the head with her entrance. Then he waits, eyes never leaving her own, until Rey gives him the go-ahead with an imperceptible nod. 

There’s a moment of exquisite resistance, a sharp pinch punctuated by her soft whimper, then her body gives in and slowly welcomes him in its wet warmth, until he’s fully sheathed inside her, filling her to the brim. _Perfect_ , Ben thinks, barely hanging on to his sanity. 

She’s perfect.

Rey’s gasps brings him back to earth; she’s holding her breath, eyes tightly shut not to let any tear slide down, and her blunt nails digs into his shoulders, as she waits for the pain to subside.

He kisses her everywhere, on her mouth, her cheeks, her eyelids and even the shell of her ear, trying to distract her from the pain and divert his own mind from the sizzling pleasure creeping along his spine. 

“Sorry, I— I’m sorry,” he chants over and over as he covers her skin with open-mouthed kisses, and waits for her to adjust to his intrusion. He can wait, he can stay like that forever, buried inside her, drunk with her scent and perfectly happy for the first time of his life.

Only when Rey exhales and gives a tentative wriggle of her hips, Ben dares to move, pulling back and plunging slowly in. This time there’s no resistance, only the languorous drag of skin against skin and the most wonderful friction that makes them both moan in unison.

Rey's head lolls back, jaw slacked, and he takes the opportunity to suckle and nibble at the column of her throat, leaving a path of little marks and bruises in his wake.

She retaliates by sinking her fingers into his hair, tugging slightly at the roots and clinging to him like her life depends on it. 

Their movements are clumsy, still not coordinated, until suddenly they _are_ , her hips meeting him halfway as he thrusts, and it’s perfect, _perfect_ Rey, _my Rey mine forever._

Their wedding vows suddenly come to his mind and Ben can’t help but whisper them out loud in her ear, their meaning sinking deeper into his heart as he falls further into her, over and over again.

“ _W-we are one when together…_ ”

Her eyes open heavily, and she must recognize the words because she answers with the same oath she has recited to him during the ceremony, albeit translated by the officiant.

“ _We are one when parted, we will share all._ ”

She whispers the words right onto his mouth, before capturing his lips in the sweetest kiss she’s ever given him. Her arms close around him, holding him tight and it’s her acceptance, this early bud of love that hopefully will grow and bloom someday, that makes him shudder with gratitude. 

It’s the most precious gift, the missing piece, the last push Ben needs to tumble over the edge and lose himself into the bliss of her embrace, his wife, his Rey. _His, forever._

And Ben knows — _he knows_ — like the sun crosses in the sky to meet its moon at the edge of the universe, he will never let her go. 

***

He’s still rutting into her, whispering sweet nothing into her mouth, words turning into kisses and broken sounds, when Rey comes again. This time she’s not afraid to give in to the pleasure, but the intensity of it still takes her by surprise, stealing her breath and every coherent thought for a fleeting eternity.

While she descends from the height of it all, Ben follows her with a long shudder, pulling away just before spilling himself on her belly.

Still fuzzy and warm with contentment, she’s strangely grateful for his thoughtfulness. There will be time for children and heirs, maybe when they will be able to actually know each other like husband and wife, like _partners_ instead of barely reconciled enemies. The idea of a future beside this man, so solid and clear, doesn't scare her like before.

Ben sags beside her with a groan, mindful not to crush her under his impressive frame, but swiftly pulling her into his arms, as if he can’t bear to stay away even for a bunch of seconds. 

A warm feeling curls inside her rib cage, swelling and reaching out like a flower soaking into the light. It’s a new sensation, that makes her lips curl into a dumb smile despite the jitters in her gut at the unfamiliarity of it all. 

Rey leans into her husband’s side, ignoring the soreness of her limbs and the sticky mess between them. Suddenly curious, she reaches for her belly, coating her fingers with his spend before bringing them to her mouth. Ben watches her with eyes wide open, groaning and tightening his grip on her as she tastes his bittersweet flavor with a flicker of her tongue. 

She smiles at his reaction, already planning to return the favor the next time they’re together.

Because there will be a next time, many of them actually if it’s up to her. 

As if reading her mind, Ben sighs, and flashes her a fond, dimpled smile, spreading slowly on his beautiful face. His big hand cradles her cheek, so gently that she feels breakable and precious, protected. 

Rey's not a delicate and innocuous maiden, she can very well take care of herself — always has — but it's surprisingly good to be cared for, sometimes.

And the ecstatic look on her husband's face tells her he might just spoil her rotten, if given the opportunity.

“ _Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika…_ ” Ben mumbles, as his eyes close and the soothing rhythm of his fingers along her spine slows down tiredly. 

Rey smiles, surrendering to sleep with their forehead touching and their limbs intertwined. She still doesn’t understand a word of what he’s saying, but it’s not important right now. 

They are _married_ , after all. 

They have a lifetime to teach each other and learn together. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
